


Life Lesson #184: Don't go spelunking in Iraq

by Alethia



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Canon Era, Challenge Response, Demons, Explicit Sexual Content, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Nate POV, Originally Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-13
Updated: 2009-08-13
Packaged: 2018-05-11 12:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5627161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sure, it was kinda fucked up to think kissing would be off-limits since he had to 'sacrifice' his virtue by having gay sex with Brad and all....but Nate was used to fucked up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Lesson #184: Don't go spelunking in Iraq

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on the fictionalized characters in the HBO miniseries, _Generation Kill_ , as written by Ed Burns and David Simon and as portrayed by Alexander Skarsgard, Stark Sands, and others. It is a work of fiction ergo it never happened.
> 
> Written for the [Porn Skirmish](http://shoshannagold.livejournal.com/303031.html). Prompt was "fuck or someone will die." Originally posted [here](http://shoshannagold.livejournal.com/303031.html?thread=2231735#t2231735). Also posted [here](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/390514.html). My thanks to [](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/profile)[**oxoniensis**](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/) for the beta.

The beam of Nate's flashlight deepened the markings on the wall, accentuating the writing, if not illuminating it. He studied the intricate lines—wedges, diagonals, crosshatches—utterly transfixed by the brilliance of ancient thinkers. Now he wished he'd spent more time in school on non-Western ancient languages. He had a passing acquaintance, but his education didn't give him enough expertise in cuneiform to make sense of any of it. And yet there was something about it—it looked slightly off to him and he couldn't understand why.

Scuffling against rocks and falling dirt made him look to the tunnel entrance. Nate hefted his rifle automatically, but subsided when Ray's voice reverberated down to him. "Fucking officers. How is it that we invade a fucking _country_ and the only recon we get is to track down lost butter bars? What, do we gotta hold their dicks for 'em, too?"

"You'd probably enjoy that," Brad said, clipped.

"More than tramping down a hole in the ground to God knows where, marching into my fuckin' grave for all I know. If I end up in an ancient shit depository I'm gonna cut someone."

"Shut the fuck up and keep walking."

Nate regarded the entrance to the cavern patiently, waiting for the guys to appear. After another few moments they did, Ray stopping just inside and blinking like he hadn't actually expected to find Nate. "Well, that's some anti-climactic shit right there."

Brad peered over his head, eyes doing a visual sweep of Nate, the cavern, and then back to Nate. "Everything all right, sir?"

"Fine, Brad. Did you need me?" 

Something flickered in Brad's eyes. Ray shuffled in. "Nah, LT. Brad just missed his boyfriend, that's all." He started doing the rounds of the walls. "Plus, if we came back without our officer Godfather would have to explain to Mattis and nobody wants to make Chaos cry. Dude apparently loves your ass. Just like everyone else. Christ, you're like the officer corps' town bicycle." 

"Thank you, Ray, for turning the regard of my fellow officers into something tawdry. Makes it special."

"No prob, dude. Hey, what's through here?" he asked, poking his head into a smaller, adjoining cavern.

Nate gestured around. "More of this." 

"Rock on. This is some _Indiana Jones_ shit right here. Man, that guy was a pussy." Ray clicked on his flashlight and ducked into the next room.

Nate looked over to where Brad stared up at the symbols on the walls. "It goes left to right," Brad said, gesturing with one hand.

"There is method to the madness. How's your cuneiform?" Nate asked dryly.

"About as good as my retardese, sir." 

"So given your extensive exposure to Corporal Person, we should be all set." Brad snorted and Nate flashed him a smile, then turned back to the writing on the wall. "So much history," he murmured. "They advanced human knowledge in ways we don't even understand. They were demonstrating Pythagorean Theorem fifteen hundred years before Pythagoras even lived," Nate offered...and then reconsidered. Was he being tedious?

But Brad's voice was amused-dry, not annoyed-dry: "Fucked by the white man, yet again. Don't tell Poke; we'll never hear the end of it."

Nate huffed out a laugh and pushed himself through the never-ending _want_ , so thick it clogged in his throat. It...didn't help to dwell on what he couldn't have. He knew that.

Nate cleared his throat. Tedious or not, he did have responsibilities and they didn't include staring at walls. Or his Team Leaders. He looked around.

"Does it seem like Ray's being far too quiet?" Nate asked, suddenly suspicious. A silent Ray might well be the first sign of the Apocalypse; his concern was completely justified. 

Brad stilled, then turned toward the cavern that had seemingly swallowed Ray whole. "Ray, are you trying to suck yourself off again?"

No answer. Nate traded looks with Brad; they both raised their weapons.

Fire flared bright and shocking, simultaneously lighting in wall sconces all throughout their cavern and the next. Nate blinked his eyes against the sudden sting. That...wasn't a good sign.

Ray appeared in the entranceway to the other cavern, worryingly blank-faced. They lowered their weapons. Slightly.

"Ray, what the fuck? Didn't you hear me?"

"So, uhh, I think I did something bad."

"It's okay, Ray, we've got adult diapers in the Humvee."

Ray screwed up his face in offense, only Nate was distracted by the movement behind him. His weapon was up before he consciously thought about it. "Out of the way, Corporal."

"Yeah, about that. I think I might've accidently pissed off a demon chick."

"Very fuckin' funny, Ray. Get out of the way."

"See, I'd love to, but I really can't 'cause she's got, like, this claw thing in my back and if I move it hurts like a motherfucker."

Whatever reply Brad had for that was swallowed up as... _something_ kind of unfolded around Ray. It seemed to coalesce from the air itself, hovering just behind Ray, almost like it was phasing in and out of the visible spectrum. Which wasn't possible but Nate had priorities other than pondering the science of it. Like how it looked—vaguely female? Nate met its eyes, then wondered if that was a bad idea, meeting its gaze and all.

Wait, that was vampires. What had Ray said? A 'demon chick?' Were there rules for demons? Would holy water work?

Because Nate _always_ kept holy water on hand. Totally.

Right. He could...deal with this.

"Well, you're not dead yet, so it must want something," Nate said, the logical side of his brain whirring through possibilities. Which was good since the non-logical side was stuck on 'holy shit, demons really exist.'

"Comforting, sir, really."

Nate traded swift looks with Brad, but his eyes said he was equally clueless. 

So Nate shrugged and just went with it. "What do you want?" he called, trying to sight something to shoot, but there was Ray and then whatever it was seemed to be materializing and then dispersing, nothing Nate could kill.

"You have disturbed this place." The voice was sibilant, vaguely female but mostly not. Otherworldy. "A sacrifice must be repaid. This one's life is acceptable."

"Umm, any other options?" Ray asked. "Maybe some nice Humrats? Rudy's hula girl?"

Bargaining with a demon. Right. This must be what the Corps meant when it preached 'expecting the unexpected.'

"Pitiful as his whiskey tango life may be, its loss is unacceptable," Brad said, frosty, ever the Iceman.

"Gee, don't be too effusive," Ray muttered.

"Is there another sacrifice you'd consider sufficient?" Nate asked. The fact that it was being called a 'sacrifice' didn't bode well.

The eyes scrutinized him, unblinking and creepy as all hell. It didn't have a mouth—instead the voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere: "Life or virtue." 

"Fuck," Ray said eloquently, probably the most brevity he'd exercised in...ever.

Right. Virtue. "Virtue means what, exactly?" Nate asked.

"The surrender of sexual abstinence." No inflection at all, as if it were stating simple fact.

"Uhh, you realize we're Marines, right? We're all outta virtue," Ray said, craning his neck back like if he made eye contact, the demon would realize the logic of his argument.

Who the hell knew? It could work.

The demon said nothing.

"I mean, you got the Marines thing, right? We'll fuck anything," Ray continued, babbling.

"Ray, stop arguing with the demon trying to kill you," Brad said shortly.

"I'm just saying—what virtue does it expect us kinky fucks to even have?"

"Not _you_ ," it said, almost tart.

Ray made an offended noise. "Your loss. I woulda rocked you hardcore."

Those unblinking eyes stared at Nate, looked _into_ him. "You have not been sullied by your fellow man." Nate flushed, knew he did, but he still lifted his chin defiantly. 

Then logic kicked in again. "Wait, but that means you two have been 'sullied by your fellow man,'" Nate said, looking first at Brad, then to Ray. Neither man said anything. "What the fuck?"

Brad shrugged, but didn't take his eyes off the demon. "Military school."

That left Ray. Who appeared to be pouting. "Dude, I thought it was a chick! Those Thai whores have great fake tits, man, what was I supposed to think?!"

Brad snorted, but Nate wasn't yet at the point where he could find things amusing. He was still back at the notion of surrendering his virtue. Apparently he had some left. 

The demon probably didn't know what they'd been doing in Iraq; if it did, it might reconsider the estimation of his virtue.

Nate addressed the demon: "If I have sex with Brad, you'll let Ray go? And you won't recapture him or pursue Brad or me?"

The demon seemed to solidify a bit more at that, phasing less and keeping more of its shape. "Your terms are agreeable."

"So what do you possibly get out of this?"

Its pause was almost...questioning. "I am Varun—I spread unnatural lust."

Huh. Not exactly the answer he expected.

Ray made an affronted sound. "Seriously, you're hesitating? Do I mean so little to you?" 

"I'm not hesitating, I'm _thinking_ ," Nate snapped.

"What's there to think about?" Ray asked, working his way to incensed. Then he took a detour to his first love: bitching. "Fucking officers stumbling into fucking haunted caves and waking up fucking demons and shit and you're not even going to sacrifice for your fucking men? The fuck, dude? Sacrifice by getting laid! By coming your brains out. With the Iceman! Who hesitates?"

"Something you need to tell me, Ray?" Brad asked coolly. Oh, shit, Brad. Nate hadn't exactly consulted him before offering that compromise. He still watched the demon, but he'd relaxed his M4. 

"I'd totally do you if it was that or you'd die," Ray said defiantly.

"Gee, I feel all warm and tingly inside."

"Whatever, homes, that's the mark of true friendship."

Brad didn't respond. Instead he stopped watching the demon and turned his eyes on Nate. "Sir, if I may, given the alternative, this seems like the better option."

Like Brad was reading goddamn mind. Christ, if demons were real, maybe he _was_. 

That thought was gonna stay with him.

Nate acknowledged Brad's point, but he still had qualms. "I want to make sure we consider the ramifications. DADT, you're under my command—"

"Corporal Person, if it means your life, do you think you can keep your fucking pie hole shut about this?"

"So little faith in Ray-Ray. And after all I've done for you."

Brad inclined his head, eyes never leaving Nate's. "I think we can be assured Corporal Person won't be telling. And it's a fucking demon. That kinda trumps the officer-enlisted divide, sir. Higher plane of existence and all."

Right. Of course Brad was right. And willing, apparently, since he was trying to talk Nate into it. Brad set down his weapon and dropped his Kevlar beside it. Nate watched him do it, a strange ringing in his ears. _Fuck_.

"Seriously, do I need to start singing 'Do it for Our Country' over here?" Ray asked.

"What it comes down to, sir, is do you want to explain to Ray's mom that you wouldn't fuck me and that's why her little whiskey tango baby boy is no longer with us? That's just—"

Nate cut him off. "I'll do it, dammit, I'm just figuring out _how_ —"

Brad moved in then, a quick dart and he was up in Nate's space. He paused slightly, like waiting for Nate to freak out—right, because _that'd_ happen—and then he stepped in, pressing himself against Nate. Brad slid his mouth over Nate's, asking a question. 

Nate just kind of stood there, not reacting. He hadn't actually thought it'd go like this. Fuck, he hadn't actually thought it would happen at all. Ever. 

Brad was undeterred, kissing him carefully, soft, coaxing a response. It woke up something inside Nate, sent a burst of feeling along his spine. Apparently kissing was allowed. Good to know. Sure, it was kinda fucked up to think kissing would be off-limits since he had to 'sacrifice' his virtue by having gay sex with Brad and all....but Nate was used to fucked up. 

"Seriously, kissing?" Ray asked, incensed. "The ever loving fuck, come on! Did the demon turn you into girls?! If so, get over here so I can lick your pussies."

Brad pulled away just enough to snap out: "Ray, shut your fucking hole so I can save your life in peace." 

"Yeah, by getting laid. So sorry if I don't feel too bad for you," Ray sulked.

Brad moved in and kissed him with more force. Nate opened his mouth to suck in air, hand anchoring himself in Brad's vest. Brad took that as an invitation and flicked his tongue in, just light, but still enough to clue his body in to just what was going on.

Oh God, he was going to have sex with Brad. Right here, right now, with an audience. 

Heat swept through him, then cold. He felt too big for his skin, but it didn't stop him from reacting, participating in the kiss, following Brad's tongue back into his mouth and exploring, cautious.

Brad threw 'cautious' out the fucking window. He made a sound that went straight through Nate, then _sucked_ on Nate's tongue. He tugged off Nate's Kevlar, encouraged him to set down his weapon. Then Brad shifted against him, grinding their cocks together, and then it was _Nate_ making the noise, could feel it in his throat. His back hit the smoothed stone of the wall as Brad attacked his mouth. 

Ray's voice sounded far away. "So, wait, does that mean dry humping takes away your virtue? Dude, in that case, I lost all kinds of virtue, like, ages ago. Who the fuck knew dry humping counts?"

Brad didn't react, busy doing filthy, suggestive things to Nate's mouth. Nate pulled away to breathe, but Brad immediately caught him up again, nipping at Nate's lips and fucking Nate's mouth in kind, a slick slide of tongues that shorted something in his brain, made Nate want to be naked, to have Brad naked. 

Ray was still talking to himself. "Like, there was this one time in high school, this chick totally climbed up on top of me and I was on the path, man—"

Brad read his mind again and started in on Nate's pants, still not breaking the slow, thorough plundering of Nate's mouth. Some good multitasking there.

Nate breathed out a laugh at that thought. Brad didn't miss a beat, sliding his mouth down to Nate's jaw and biting, scraping his teeth along his neck. His hand in Nate's pants stole all thoughts of laughter, stilled Nate utterly as a shudder of want swept through him, making him stupid and slow and already shaky. 

Right. He should really be reciprocating here.

"—the path to _righteousness_ , only she kept rubbing up against me," Ray continued.

Nate turned his head and found Brad's mouth, doing something familiar to do something not—his hands shook on Brad's belt, both of them, just a little. Fuck. Nate...wasn't used to that. 

If Brad noticed, he didn't show it, simply sucked on Nate's tongue and cupped his cock through his briefs, not moving to get to skin, just this maddening tease. Which was probably a clue that he was waiting for Nate to catch the fuck up.

His hands knew how to deal with buckles and buttons and zippers, even if his brain didn't consciously recognize it, because soon he was palming Brad's cock through his briefs. Brad bit his tongue and squeezed him harder, sharp flare of pain ratcheting up the pleasure just that much more, and right, this really wasn't gonna take long. 

"I totally came in my pants. But I was like, fuck, dude, you can't be rubbing up all over me and expect nothing to happen. That's kinda the fuckin' point," Ray said.

Nate pushed his hand into Brad's briefs, curled his fingers around his cock and stroked, trying to work out the angle. He palmed the slick head, using sweat to his advantage here, but it was still a rough and dirty jack. Fucking making do, the Corps would be so proud.

Brad's breath hitched in Nate's mouth and then he reciprocated; Nate's brain kind of checked out of the proceedings. All he could do was thrust into Brad's fist, tongue-fuck his mouth, and jack him slow and hard; the rest of the world had to take care of itself for a while. And wasn't that a novel thought?

The rough slide of Brad's hand made him _ache_ , but he could handle it, could handle Brad nipping at his tongue, the barest hint of a fingernail just underneath the—

Nate was coming before he knew it, pleasure suddenly bright and all-encompassing. A desperate sound struggled out of him as Brad stroked, fast and tight while his whole body pulsed with light and heat and _fuck_.

Brad stilled suddenly and Nate's brain understood enough to keep his hand moving. Easy to say, but the execution was a bitch, especially when faced with Brad's control and restraint just crumbling in front of him, hips jerking hard, hands on Nate going rough, _biting_ at Nate's mouth as he shook and came. 

Ray's voice filtered back in. "She wouldn't even let me eat her pussy after that. The fuck is that? Whatever, man. That whole deal was whack. This is kinda like that, only not really."

After was...after. Neither of them moved away, both breathing hard, into each other's mouths. Nate knew once he moved he'd be sticky and sweaty and gross, but right now he wanted to savor this feeling, this complete contentment. It'd been—he didn't know the last time he'd felt this; he wanted to stay in it a while longer, let it bolster him for the horrors that awaited out there. The world had dimmed a little and Nate was just fine letting it all go for a while.

No, wait, that was the torches going out. The little remaining light came from their forgotten flashlights. 

Presence to his side and Nate was alarmed that he wasn't alarmed. He simply looked over at Ray, who watched them, kind of shaking his head. "She let me go. Think you pissed her off, too. She got all screechy and hissed something about soul connections or some shit like that, then up and disappeared." 

Nate...had no idea what to say to that. And not because he'd just come his brains out. 

Ray gestured between them. "So, uhh, you can stop now. Or, you know, not. Wouldn't want to interrupt a moment." He looked from Nate to Brad and back again. 

"Ray? Leave," Brad said, gruff, an order in his tone. 

Ray smirked and shook his head again, then walked out. His giddy, snorting laughter reverberated long after he'd disappeared through the tunnel.

Nate cleared his throat. He finally pulled his hand out of Brad's pants, feeling Brad do the same. Ugh. He'd been right about the sticky.

Baby wipes were a blessing here. He offered one to Brad, cleaned himself up as best he could, wiped off his hand, then tugged his clothes back into place. 

Set to rights, he met Brad's eyes. Brad watched him steadily; his look felt like a touch.

"Brad—"

Brad leaned in then, pressed their mouths together, lingering, turning it into a real kiss when Nate didn't object.

Nate certainly didn't object. He moved into it, kept it light, got a hand on Brad's neck and pulled him closer.

And this—this was really fucking gay. Too bad Ray wasn't here to opine. Not that Nate gave a fuck, but he was surprised Brad didn't.

Brad broke off the kiss, nuzzling at Nate's mouth, then moving down his cheek, everything slow and wanting and perfect. Nate made a pleased sound and Brad sucked at his jaw, laughing something shaky against his neck.

"When we're out of the shit—" Brad mumbled against Nate's skin.

"Mmm-hmm," Nate agreed, fingers scratching through the hair at the base of Brad's neck. God, he just wanted to strip him and climb on top of him and never let him go anywhere ever again. That he might actually get to do some of that...he couldn't really wrap his mind around it. "Wanted you," he added, soft.

"So fucking much," Brad finished, gruff. Then he pulled away, back to business. 

They set about collecting their Kevlar and weapons, the flashlights still lit on the ground. Nate glanced at the cavern one more time. It now looked like they'd never even disturbed the place.

"So, sir, tell me," Brad said from the entrance to the cave, "how was it losing your gay virtue in some dank, God-forsaken third-world cave while whiskey tango ingrates and demon-spawn watched?"

Nate snorted and started toward him. "It didn't suck."

Brad grinned at him as he passed, all bright and predatory. "I'm sure sucking can be arranged, sir."

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


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